Black Widow
by HigherMagic
Summary: He had been the best fighter in the Ring, back when he started as a Rookie hybrid, created by Michael – Michael's pride and joy when he'd been released into the Ring for his first fights. It was on a whim that Michael had created Dean.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Black Widow  
>Author: HigherMagic<br>Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Dean/OCs  
>Rating: R<br>Word Count: ~6,700  
>Spoilers: Castiel? It's AU.<strong><br>Summary:** He had been the best fighter in the Ring, back when he started as a Rookie hybrid, created by Michael – Michael's pride and joy when he'd been released into the Ring for his first fights. It was on a whim that Michael had created Dean, his most prized creation.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> character death, violence, gore, language, and hybrid sex  
><strong>Notes: <strong>So, um…you remember one of those ficlets I started way back when? Yeah, well, I finished it. Sort of. Not how I thought it would go, but there you have it. I had to do a lot of fucking spider research for this. There were pictures *shudders* I hate spiders. Unbeta'd. No time – will fix later. All mistakes are my own.

* * *

><p>He had been the best fighter in the Ring, back when he started as a Rookie hybrid, created by Michael – Michael's pride and joy when he'd been released into the Ring for his first fights. Sure, there were bigger and badder hybrids out there – ones that were twice his size and easily three times his aggression, but it was his unique style that had caught the eyes of many dealers.<p>

The idea is simple – if two men can cause such destruction to each other as the fabled Colosseum or the battlefields, what must men crossbred and altered with the DNA of the world's most fierce creatures accomplish? The owner of a prize fighter would be respected and rich, and that is what Michael desired.

Michael had worked for many long hours – never call him a stupid man. He tried the obvious choices; lions, tigers, bears, oh my. But it was on a whim that he created Dean.

Dean.

Michael's most prized creation.

It was a whim, pure and simple, but it had created the most magnificent, most efficient killer that anyone had ever seen – and he had been the best fighter in the Ring.

However, every few years Dean kind of makes a mess of himself, and this time he'd injured his right arm pretty badly, almost shredding all the muscle from his bone. Michael had only the top medics for all of his creations, and for Dean, he had Castiel – a new guy, but very promising.

"How did he get injured?" the medic asked, looking over Dean's chart and frowning over at the hybrid, who had curled up on himself in his large wire cage. His entire arm had been crudely bandaged and Dean was holding it to his chest protectively, glaring out of the cage. White drops of foam coated his lips and the hybrid would occasionally lick it away, rumbling softly and making a soft clicking sound in his throat.

"Got caught up in a web again," Michael replied, setting a hand down on top of Dean's cage. The hybrid looked up, eyes narrowing at the intrusion into his personal bubble, and rose up from his crouch to sniff curiously at the hand. The fingers of his uninjured arm flexed and he gently ran the sticky pad of one fingertip across Michael's palm. Satisfied, he settled back down and returned to glaring at Castiel's shins. "Damn near tore his arm off."

Castiel tutted, flipping a page on the chart. "He's crossbred with…" He trailed off, raising an eyebrow at the choice.

"There's also a bit of canine there, to make him a little more…amiable." Michael smiled, patting the top of the cage and earning another curious clicking sound from Dean. The hybrid curled up on himself, resting on his injured arm and licking at the rough, scratchy edges of the crude bandage that had been wrapped around his arm upon finding him injured.

"Does he understand English?" Castiel asked, and Michael nodded. "Is he aggressive?"

Michael pursed his lips. "Shouldn't be if you treat him right," he said, nodding his head back and forth as though he couldn't quite decide if that was the right answer; truthfully, no, Dean was not aggressive. That was what made him scary – he just got the job done. He went in and then he came out with blood all over himself with barely batting an eye.

Michael had never watched Dean fight – he used to watch all the time, but then Lucifer, a hybrid that he had created out of man and eagle, had been torn to shreds right in front of his eyes and he found that he didn't have the stomach for it.

The medic nodded, stepping back from the cage and gesturing for several orderlies to pick it up and haul Dean onto a gurney, still caged. The hybrid clicked curiously, pressing his uninjured hand against the steel bars. There were slight hooks on the ends of his fingers for grabbing onto things so that he could climb more easily and they curled around the metal bars, letting him steady himself as they ungracefully lifted him up and set him down again on the gurney. The hybrid's wide green eyes fixed on his master and he made another low, unsure sound – this time like a dog's whine, his oddly shaped pupils contracting in the harsh medical light as he looked up at Michael as he approached.

"Be good, Dean," Michael said, smiling a little. "They're gonna take real good care of you." Dean bared his teeth, which were slightly curved backwards like a python's, and he pressed his face against the bars, eyes closing and a soft rumbling sound emanating from his chest when Michael scratched him behind the ear. Castiel swore that, if Dean had had a tail, it would be wagging fiercely. "Get better, alright?"

Dean rumbled softly again, pulling away when the orderlies began to wheel him out, still making the occasional worried clicking sound in the back of his throat.

"He's a talkative one," Castiel said after a moment, checking over Dean's chart again.

Michael shrugged. "Just make sure he's healed up as soon as possible."

Castiel nodded, flashing a quick smile. "I'll do my best, sir."

* * *

><p>The injuries Dean had sustained were quite extensive – Castiel was looking over the video that had been placed in Dean's cage upon his creation, for monitoring purposes, and saw how he had managed to do it.<p>

Unlike the cameras on other creatures' cages, Dean's was placed in the corner farthest away from the door, but it was placed in the floor as opposed to the typical ceiling monitors. Castiel found out why very quickly – Dean spun webs. They criss-crossed the entire ceiling of his cage, huge designs and meshing of sticky spider's webs that he climbed up into and, from the looks of it, slept in. The video did not show how Dean spun his webs but Castiel was able to watch as the Dean on screen crawled around his cage, then up the metal bars and into the thick forest of webbing. It looked like he had created a tunnel of it so he slept in it like a hammock, and Castiel continued to watch as the hybrid crawled into the centre, and then it gave out under his weight. The onscreen hybrid screeched loudly as his arm was caught up in a rope of web, made thick because of the fall and it had clumped together and twisted around the top of his arm. His cage was very high and the fall was quite great – much of his muscle was completely shredded from his arm as he fell before the web gave out, leaving him with a useless arm hanging by his side.

Castiel was confident he would be able to fix Dean – the muscles were not damaged in themselves and a simple surgery should manage to get the ligaments and tendons back where they needed to be, and none of Dean's bones had been broken. The worst thing the hybrid would suffer from was likely a huge case of embarrassment and a little muscle soreness.

* * *

><p>The surgery to reattach a lot of Dean's muscle was extensive and lengthy – the doctors had to remove a lot of the muscles and rethread the ligaments. The entire process took almost thirty hours, but by the end of it Castiel was confident that, while Dean's arm wouldn't ever look as pretty again, he would retain most if not all use of it by the end of the healing process.<p>

The creature was put under sedation for forty-eight hours after surgery, fed through IVs to make sure he got the essentials while he slept. Fighters were always the most difficult to treat – they were either completely against the entire 'bandage to heal it' process, because it was a clear sign to an opponent that they were weak – or treating them was practically impossible because they tried to get back into the swing of things too early and ended up just damaging themselves more.

Castiel was in Dean's facility when the hybrid woke up with a loud screech and a thunk. The medic ran over to the hybrid's cage in time to find Dean ripping out his IV drip with a disgusted look, throwing the thing away with another indignant screech. He was clicking madly, obviously disoriented and unbalanced from the sedation.

"Woah, woah, there, boy," Castiel whispered, backing away from the cage door when Dean's vivid green eyes snapped to Castiel, baring his sharply-serrated teeth in aggression. Dean tried to stand tall, lifting his arms up to make him look better, and then screeched again when his injured arm hurt him, and he stumbled back down to his knees. Castiel smiled a little. "Don't strain yourself, Dean. Your arm will heal up just fine."

Dean glared at the thick bandaging around his arm, then back at Castiel. His next series of clicks sounded almost accusing.

"Can you speak?" Castiel asked, sitting in the middle of the aisle and making himself look smaller, less of a threat to the hybrid. Dean's eyes followed him like lasers. "Maybe, if you tell me what's wrong, I can fix it."

Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he crawled forward, curling the pads of his sticky fingers, and the small hooks, over the thin bars of the cage. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, jaw working as he stared at Castiel, occasionally clicking softly at him. The medic continued to watch the hybrid, until he realized that Dean wouldn't speak until he averted his eyes, and then did so, staring at the floor.

Dean threw himself at the bars of the cage, obviously having tried to lunge, but Castiel didn't move – he lifted his eyes to the growling hybrid, smiling a little. "Sorry, lad, but you're not getting out of there until I say so."

Dean growled. "Let me go," he bit out, voice low and terse. He bared his teeth in a snarl, nose wrinkling and thick drops of saliva forming around his gums. "Let me the fuck outta here." His fingers curled through the bars, hooks snagging on them and Dean hissed again in frustration. "I'll rip you apart."

Castiel cocked his head to one side, brow furrowing in confusion – what was making the hybrid so distressed? Castiel was used to displays of aggression, but that wasn't what Dean was really showing him; Dean never got aggressive. That was the thing. Castiel had watched a few of the hybrid's fights, hoping to perhaps conduct a behavioral study on his newest charge so that he would know what to expect when Dean woke up, and he'd come to realize…Dean was never angry. He didn't move, he didn't fight back, until, suddenly, his opponent was dead.

There was no sign of agitation, usually, within the hybrid, so why was he so distressed now?

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked, sitting a little closer, but not close enough that Dean could try to reach through and grab him. Dean hissed at him and backed away, green eyes glowing from the shadows of his cage. "Dean, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. And I want to help – the sooner you are healed, the sooner you can leave." The creature's eyes flashed. "That's it, isn't it? You want to leave?"

Dean bared his teeth again in anger and anxiety. "It smells weird in here," he snapped back, hunching defensively, his injured arm curled close to his stomach. "And my arm itches."

"Means it's healing," Castiel replied with a slight smile.

Dean was back at the door before Castiel could blink, pressing up as close as he could get to it. Unblinkingly, Dean stared at Castiel, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. Castiel didn't know what he smelled, but whatever it was made his eyes darken. He growled again and retreated to the other side of the cage, clambering up into his web and staying there. No matter how Castiel tried to call him down, the hybrid just continued to shout profanities at him until the medic deemed it a lost cause for today, and stood up and left.

* * *

><p>'The challenger, in this corner, the Black Widow.' He'd gained a name by then, his title – what he was crossbred with, mostly, and after the style with which he fought. Castiel was watching a video from a few months ago. Dean had looked a lot younger, hair unkempt and uncut, eyes wild, body bare except for a pair of thin, dirty sweats that hung low on his slim hips. He held a machete in his hand but looked like he had no intention of using it.<p>

'The current title holder, in this corner – Hell Hound.' The cheers were louder for the other hybrid. Dean was the underdog, the four-hundred-to-one bet. He was smaller than the other hybrid – much smaller, and the creature, bred with wolf and the feral Russian fox, salivated, champing at air while it strained against its bindings, only held in place by several men who were pulling on chains that threaded through the iron grate behind it. When they let go, the creature would be on Dean and surely rip him to shreds, and the man bulged with muscle, long, dirty hair flying around his head as he thrashed and snarled.

Castiel had Dean in his charge, and knew that the creature had won this fight, but it didn't stop his heart climbing in anticipation, in fear for Dean's safety. The other beast looked positively wild, feral – Castiel was amazed it hadn't overwhelmed its handlers.

'Begin!' the announcer cried, and the men holding Hell Hound back let go of their chains. The creature sprang forward, all snarling double-layered teeth and red-rimmed eyes, its nostrils flared widely in its excitement.

Dean crouched low, and dropped the machete to the ground. It rang out hollowly, and the beast suddenly stopped. The cheers were overtaken with a dead silence. Hell Hound crept forward, nose to the ground, growling low in its throat, ears forward and red eyes fixed on Dean, but the smaller hybrid wasn't looking at him – his head was down, shoulders hunched, throat and belly bare to the press of the larger creature's muzzle. Hell Hounds nostrils flared again and it made another sound – this one more eager, less feral, and pressed at Dean's stomach again.

Dean fell to his knees as Castiel watched, wide-eyed, and then to his hands as well, baring his back to the larger creature, while the audience watched on, rapt. Castiel's eyes widened when he saw Hell Hound – the man huge and completely unclothed – begin to harden right in front of the watching humans. Dean made a low, soft sound in his throat, lifting his gaze and baring his throat in submission, and then Hell Hound was on him, mounting the smaller hybrid with a low growl.

Dean mewled, dipping his shoulders further still, and reached back, fisting a hand in the creature's unkempt hair. Hell Hound didn't notice Dean's other hand moving up to knot also, cupping the back of his neck, the hybrid overwhelmed with what Castiel was beginning to suspect were mating pheromones.

Then, Dean took a fierce hold of the creature's head and, with a tight grimace, twisted, snapping his neck. The larger hybrid fell to the ground, dead, and Dean pushed his limp body off, snarling in victory.

"Black Widow indeed," Castiel murmured as he watched Dean bare his teeth at the dead hybrid, and then knelt down, ripping into his body with the gusto of someone who has been very, very deeply wronged. Dean tore at Hell Hound's body, drinking his blood in the palm of his hand and ripping shreds of flesh apart with his large, serrated teeth, until his handlers came to take him away, and even then Dean was still snarling, vengeance burning in his jade eyes.

Castiel clicked the window closed, sitting back in his chair, and resigned himself to further contemplating the mystery that was his new charge.

* * *

><p>"Do you like fighting, Dean?"<p>

The hybrid's nostrils flared, and he glared over at Castiel. "What kind of question is that?" he demanded defensively. "Of course I do."

"But why?"

Dean's shoulders tensed, and he took another bite out of the rare steak that Castiel had brought him, deeming the hybrid healthy enough to go back to solid foods. "Because…because my Master wants it of me," Dean replied stoically, raising his chin as though daring Castiel to argue. "It's what I was made for. Why would I be made for something I didn't enjoy?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "There are a lot of people that ask the same question," he said seriously, "and a lot of people are forced to do things every day that they don't like."

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged, "I'm not a person, am I? Not really." He shrugged again, taking a large bite of the steak. "I'm a means to an end. A tool. A weapon. And my Master loves me for being that. A few harmless fights isn't gonna kill me."

"But they _can_ kill you, Dean," Castiel implored, his blue eyes dark and serious, "and you don't _fight_."

He couldn't help the way he spat that word, and Dean tensed up again, face impassive. "So I guess you saw a couple?" he asked, picking absently at the edge of his bandage, and then sighed, shrugging. "Well, I know it's not the most accepted style, but it still fucking counts, last time I checked." He took another bite of steak, shoving it all into one cheek in an expression that was three parts stubborn, one part childish.

Castiel sighed, sitting back a little. "Must be lonely," he said, trying for a different approach, and Dean's eyes flashed to his, "to only have fights and meaningless almost-fucks." He tilted his head to one side. "Or is that the part you enjoy? The sex?"

"Hey." Dean pointed an accusing finger his way. "Don't you dare fucking judge me, alright? You know what, people _like_ sex. I can _smell_ the humans that are watching when they see me getting fucked, and I _like_ it, I'm _good_ at it, and sometimes, when they put me in a room with a fucking monster, it's my only fucking option, alright?"

"I'm not judging you," Castiel replied coolly.

Dean shorted. "Like shit you're not," he growled, and then threw what was left of his meal down, turning to face Castiel. "You know what I really like, though?" he asked, leaning forward and bearing his sharp, backward-facing teeth. "I like that they never see it coming. I like it when they think they've won, all the while knowing that if they don't satisfy me, I can rip their fucking heads from their bodies."

He sat back, blinking once. "Other hybrids call me a whore," he said, turning away a little. "They can smell how many males I've had on me and they think I'm a slut. S'never just been about survival, I guess, for them." He shrugged, green eyes flashing back to Castiel's wide ones – honestly, the medic was just surprised; Dean had never been this talkative before. "Somethin' on your mind, Doc?"

Castiel blinked. "Surely you want a mate," he said, unable to stop his curiosity. "Don't you have a mating instinct?"

Dean snorted, lips curling up in a smirk. "You get a bit of a reputation when you fight like I do," he said, shrugging. "No one has the balls to try, I guess. S'not my fault I have high standards." And he smirked again, shaking his head. "When can I get out of here?"

"When your arm has healed a little more, we shall take off the cast and examine it," Castiel said, "and make sure there is no more damage that we need to repair. I'm feeling optimistic, though – all the tests are checking out wonderfully. You may be home within two weeks."

"But not fighting," Dean said.

Castiel shook his head a little, smiling slightly. "No fighting."

Dean looked ahead. "Master's not gonna like that," he said with a twist to his mouth. "Shame. I liked being the favorite."

Castiel's brow furrowed again. "Dean, I'm sure that -."

"Nah." Dean smiled sadly, looking over to Castiel. "Master's a great guy, really, but…" He briefly touched his temple. "He's too smart, see. Always needs to be creatin' things. And I'm old news. Especially now that I'm injured. I'll hold less, ah, allure." He chuckled briefly.

Castiel's eyes widened in understanding. "That's why you want to leave so badly," Castiel whispered; "You think if you get back to fighting quickly, then Michael won't need to create more and you'll keep his favor."

"You heard him yourself," Dean snapped. "He told me to get better. I've already been out of the Ring too long – stupid, falling from the web like that. Knew it was weak but I thought I could get a few more days out of it." Dean growled at himself, disgusted, and then stood up. "Just heal me up, Doc, and then let me go. I need to fight. I _want_ to." Then, he disappeared up his web again, and Castiel sighed, realizing that the conversation had come to an abrupt and final close.

* * *

><p>Dean was pushing himself too hard in physical therapy, but Castiel didn't have the heart to tell him to slow down, and he knew Dean wouldn't listen anyway. The cast came off later that week and, as predicted, there was no damage, and everything was healing up rather nicely. Dean didn't have the same grip as he used to in his hand, but he could still move his arm and retained a lot of his dexterity and muscle strength, so Castiel counted it as a win.<p>

"You should be able to be discharged tomorrow," Castiel murmured, smiling in pleasure over a job well done. It had been a little over a month and Dean was well on his way to making a full recovery and, aside from a few rough spots, Castiel had enjoyed spending time the with hybrid. Dean was a vibrant creature, funny and witty and charming in that rough-around-the-edges sort of way.

Dean smirked, raising a brow. "So, what, I don't at least get a goodbye kiss?" he asked, chuckling a little at Castiel's expression. He shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for tryin'. S'been a long time for me."

"I'd rather keep my head, if it's all the same to you," Castiel murmured with a slight smile.

Dean shrugged once more. "You never know," he muttered, looking down, "you might get it right."

* * *

><p>He was discharged later that week. Castiel felt oddly sad to see the hybrid go, watching with lips pressed together as Dean was hauled up in a cage into a loading van. Michael came over to him, smiling widely, obviously pleased with Dean's progress while the hybrid watched on with avid green eyes.<p>

"I don't think he should go back in for another month, at least," Castiel said before Michael could speak.

The man laughed, clapping Castiel on the shoulder. "Well, we'll have to see," he said, looking back as the truck doors closed on Dean, shutting him off from sight. "Got a fight scheduled later this week, but if he's still looking off I'll have to delay it."

Castiel frowned a little, but didn't reply, because he had nothing to say to that. He wanted to take Michael's word on it that he wouldn't push Dean too far too fast, but, of course, the fighting business was quite literally cutthroat, and to be on top, one had to fight fiercely to get and stay there.

"I mean it," Castiel whispered, looking to his boss. "Sir," he added almost as an afterthought. The man smiled at him a little. "Dean's been pushing himself and I'm worried. He almost ripped his damn arm off and had to have all of the muscles reattached – that's not something you can just shrug off. Please, Sir, give him time to recover, and he'll be as good as new."

Michael's expression didn't change from the almost vacant smile, and Castiel got the feeling that he wasn't being listened to. With an exasperated huff, he turned away again, looking at the tail-end of the truck as it slowly inched out of the practice's parking lot and onto the main road. Michael clapped him on the shoulder again, regaining his attention; "Good job, Novak," he said, waving and heading towards his car. "I'll be sure to mention this to your superiors."

* * *

><p>Castiel got a promotion out of treating Dean so efficiently and sending him on his merry way – Michael had, apparently, been very generous with donations and funding, and had promised a cut of all Dean's future winnings. That made his bosses very pleased with him.<p>

It didn't sit right with Castiel, but he couldn't do anything about it.

"Hey, Cas!" The medic stopped, turning around to see an orderly running towards him, slowing to a halt in front of him. "Some of the guys were gonna go out and watch the fight. Live streaming from Ring-side. You in?"

"Who's fighting?" Castiel hazarded.

"Widow and…dunno. Think the thing's name is Chief or something." Castiel's eyes widened – it had only been a few _days_ since Dean was discharged – he was in no condition to fight! Shocked, horrified, Castiel could only vaguely nod, accepting the invitation without realizing, and before long he found himself sitting in a bar with several of the other medics and orderlies, drinking beer and watching the fight.

He'd asked around to try and get more information – rumors of Dean's injury, it seemed, had been going around, and the hybrid was at twenty-to-one odds, the underdog to Chief's eight-to-three.

The hybrid was crossbred, from what information Castiel could glean, with a cobra and partly with a gorilla. It showed in the large, rough patches of scales across his bare skin that made it look like he suffered from some kind of rash or flesh-eating bacteria, and fat hung off his torso in gross rolls. Castiel swallowed, seeing how much larger he was than Dean – the widow hybrid was half his size, maybe. Castiel's hand clenched around his beer, anxiety and fear for Dean washing over him as he watched, through the gritty, crappy camera, Dean's green eyes look the other creature over, sizing him up.

Chief hissed, baring his grotesquely dirty yellowing teeth, roaring loudly as he raised his arms above his head to show his size and strength, much to the delight of the crowd, both Ring-side and in the bar. Castiel hunched his shoulders, feeling tiny just _looking_ at the beast. Dean, however, didn't waver.

His arm looked good – it was unbandaged, and he stood turned away so that his weak arm was furthest from Chief. It that hand was gripped a weapon, loosely – Castiel couldn't see it well but it looked like some sort of knife, and Castiel had to wonder why they kept arming Dean if he never used the weapons.

The announcer rang the bell, shouting for the fight to begin, and the crowd leapt into a frenzy, as though they were the hybrids in the Ring ready to fight to the death. Chief bared his teeth in a savage smile, stepping towards Dean.

"Come on, pretty spider," he rumbled, his voice deep and jarring and Dean straightened, lifting his chin high in defiance. "The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout…" Chief laughed, his large hands landing on the rolling mass of his belly, clearly thinking himself a genius for the nursery rhyme. Dean's eyes flashed with hatred and malice, but no one would have seen it if they weren't looking.

Dean took a small step forward too, keeping his injured arm and his weapon concealed. His lips were moving but he wasn't saying anything – nothing that the camera could pick up, anyway, over the roaring of the crowd. He side-stepped Chief's lunge, swinging his knife down to embed itself in the creature's back, and yanked it out with a savage snarl before darting away, nimble and quicker on his feet than the other creature.

* * *

><p>"Come on, come on," Dean whispered, darting away again. The air reeked of sweat and piss, stale blood and vomit and he hated it. He hated the smell of his God-forsaken place. He wanted to go. He wanted to <em>leave<em> and the sooner this sonofabitch died the sooner he could get out of here.

Soon, Chief would smell his pheromones, and then it would be all over. Dean just had to survive until then. His arm hurt, more than he would care to admit, and the jarring sensation of trying to sink his knife into Chief's thick flesh had strained him unnecessarily.

Chief roared, lunging once more, and caught Dean's arm when he tried to dodge. Dean jerked away, wrenching himself free and snarled, eyes flashing that this piece of _filth_ had managed to touch him. God, he felt _dirty_.

The fucking medic had gone and made him soft.

Thinking of Castiel made Dean angry – son of a bitch had just stood there, trying to _argue_ against Dean fighting. He had _tried_ to get his master to abandon him, and Dean had no idea why. The only thing he could think of was that he had tried to do that out of some twisted kind of jealousy.

But he wasn't sure.

Chief roared again, and Dean jerked when he felt the creature's massive hand cuff him around the head, sending his world spinning. Dean stumbled, cursing, and the crowd went positively _feral_. Dean fell to his hands and knees, gasping as he tried to get his bearing again, but then Chief's large bulk was over him, bearing down and completely smothering him.

"Mine now, pretty spider," Chief growled, laughing, his rancid breath ghosting over Dean's neck, and the hybrid gasped again, shaking his head and trying to buck the other creature off – he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't nearly wet enough and if Chief tried to fuck him now he'd get ripped open. Chief's hands hooked over his biceps and Dean cursed again, collapsing when his weak arm gave out on him, unable to support both his and the other creature's weights.

Chief growled in victory, positioning himself behind Dean, his breathing getting ragged and heavy and, at a loss of anything else to do, Dean grabbed for the knife, turned around, and plunged it into Chief's neck. Blood spurted out, a sickly greenish color, around the blade and Dean shoved it in, baring his teeth in a grimace as he forced the knife as deep as he would go, while the creature roared and scrabbled at the weapon. Then, Dean grit his teeth, pain lancing up and down his weak arm, and force the knife out through the back of Chief's neck, semi-decapitating him.

The hybrid slumped down, his hot blood gushing over Dean's neck and chest and arm, and a little into his mouth, and Dean spluttered, spitting the rancid liquid back out, and slowly wormed his way out from under Chief's body as the hybrid slowly slumped forward, already cooling down.

Dean snarled at the stunned ground, raising his knife in the air and then plunging it back into Chief's body, ripping his back open from neck to ass. His blood burned with the victory, but his mouth tasted sour from the other creature's _presumption_, that he could touch Dean and that would be _okay_. What gave him the fucking right?

The spider allowed himself to be led away by his handlers, still soaked in Chief's blood, and went out to meet his master. Michael smiled, reaching forward, and gently touching the space about three inches from Dean's forehead.

"Congratulations, Dean," he said.

The hybrid bared teeth, lined with the greenish blood, and smiled.

* * *

><p>Castiel almost collapsed in relief when Dean crawled out from under Chief – he had through for sure that the larger hybrid would smother him, but Dean proved him wrong, of course. It seemed strange to Castiel that Dean's savagery was only taken out on the corpse, that he never allowed himself to falter while actually fighting, and Castiel wondered why that was.<p>

"Aw, damn it!" Castiel looked to one side, where the orderly that had invited him out was throwing down a coaster in disgust. "I had a hundred on Chief."

"Should have bet on the underdog," another one said smugly. "Widow never loses."

"Neither did Chief, until tonight," said another.

Castiel sighed, and stood up. "Gentlemen," he said, excusing himself, but he didn't think they really cared – he hadn't taken part in the betting. He wasn't a gambling man, and the thought that others put a gain or loss on Dean's life, quite frankly, sickened him.

He knew that not all hybrids died in fights – some of them were just badly injured and then deemed too weak by their opponent to be more competition, so they allowed them to live and were merely satisfied with their victory. As far as Castiel could tell, Dean had never let an opponent live – not even one who was so badly injured from the fight that they hadn't even been able to try crawling away.

A thought occurred to him, as he started the long walk home because he had been drinking and it wasn't responsible to drive – maybe it was because of Dean's species. He knew physical characteristics were given to the hybrids – that's what they were made for, after all – but maybe some of the instincts were there too. Maybe it was more than just making them stronger or faster or more deadly.

When Castiel finally got into his home, he settled down at his computer, and began to research.

Around three in the morning, it suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

"…Oh," Castiel said, and then shut off his laptop and went to sleep.

* * *

><p>Dean was back the next day, in the medic's care, because Michael had been worried when he'd found Dean sleeping, uncharacteristically, on the floor of his enclosure instead of up in his web.<p>

"I think his arm has been strained," the man had said. "From the fight."

Castiel's mouth twisted, thinking about that, but his retort – 'You should have followed my advice, you idiot' – went unsaid. Instead, he went over to Dean's cage and sat down in the hallway, on the floor, like he usually did.

"Dean?" he asked, and the creature's eyes snapped his way. "How you feelin'?"

Dean smiled a little, baring his python-like teeth, and leaned forward conspiratorially. "I'm faking it," he whispered, grinning, sounding very pleased with himself.

"What?" Castiel asked, blinking.

Dean shrugged, sitting back. "I prefer it here. It doesn't…smell. As much."

Castiel cocked his head to one side, an amused smile flashing across his face. "Well, what did you plan on doing, now that you're here?" Dean shrugged, and Castiel paused for a moment; now or never. "Dean? Can I ask you something?"

"Fire away, Doc," the hybrid answered.

"…How well can you see?" Castiel asked, and Dean's eyes flashed towards him. "I mean…is everything blurry? Or…"

Dean coughed a little. "The, um…" He cleared his throat again. "Usually stuff's just blurry. But I can go by feel. And smell – the dog gives me a really good sense of smell." Castiel nodded, more of his theories slotting into place. "Why?"

"You don't like them touching you, do you?" Castiel asked, ignoring the question, and Dean's eyes narrowed. "It feels weird, I bet."

Dean pressed his lips together. "They only touch me to hurt me," he murmured, looking away. "Why should I let them?"

"You let them fuck you," Castiel pointed out.

Dean laughed. "They've never gotten far in that aspect, Doc, if you know what I mean."

Unfortunately, Castiel knew all too well. "Dean," he said, "press your hand against the cage." He scooted a little closer and the hybrid tensed, lifting his chin, nostrils flaring as he tried to scent the air, to get a grip on what was happening, but he obeyed, tiny hooks in his fingertips catching on the metal bars and sticky pads pressed against the thin metal. Castiel reached forward, slowly, and ran a fingernail across the bars, like when children beat at gates with sticks.

Dean shivered, his eyes widening as he looked at his own hand, no doubt able to feel the vibrations of the bars with his super-sensitive fingertips. "What…?" Castiel did it again and Dean mewled softly, a soft series of clicks spilling from his mouth.

"He crossed you with a female spider, didn't he?" Castiel whispered, dragging his nail across again and watching how Dean shivered at it, his toes flexing against the floor of the cage as he drew his legs closer to his body, wrapping his other arm around them. "That's why you eat them. You're not matured, and then when they try and mate with you anyway, you react."

"I…" Dean choked, swallowing, his body tensing as he continued to stare at his hand. "I like to think it's a little more complicated than that."

"They can't communicate with you like this, though," Castiel continued, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pen, then tapping it against the bars, and Dean's eyes widened further, his other hand going forward and pressing against the cage, wanting to feel the vibrations. The medic nodded, pleased with himself for figuring it out. "It's self-defense."

"Shut up," Dean snapped, pressing his hands more insistently against the bars, and then he moved his hands to the side, where he could feel them getting stronger. He traveled around the edge of his cage, feeling the rebounds of Castiel's pen striking at his cage, until he was face to face with the medic.

Castiel stopped, then, and Dean released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, letting go of the cage and sitting back. "I've never felt that before," he confessed. "No one's…that's never happened." His eyes narrowed. "How did you figure that out?"

"Research," Castiel answered with a shrug.

Dean hummed, leaning forward and pressing his face against the cage, fingers curling around the bars to help support him. "Your eyes are really blue," he said. "They're the only part of you I can really see clearly." He paused, cocking his head to one side, thinking to himself. "I think I'll know it's you, whenever I see them."

Castiel smiled. "If you don't smell me first," he said.

Dean chuckled gently, his eyes gently fluttering closed. Cautious, Castiel tapped his fingers against the bars, and then allowed his fingers to slip through, just gently brushing over Dean's hand. The hybrid's eyes opened and he looked at where they were touching, leaning down to sniff lightly at Castiel's hand, and then smiled, pressing his cheek against Castiel's fingers.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Cas," he whispered, eyes flashing to the medic's face. "I think I might have to fake injury more often."

Castiel chuckled. "Not too often," he said, his finger lifting gently to brush over Dean's nose. "I watched your fight with Chief. Scared the shit outta me. I thought you weren't gonna make it."

Dean chuckled, turning his head slightly to lick at Castiel's palm. "Undefeated, Cas," he sing-songed, eyes blinking open. "You'd be amazed."

Castiel smiled a little, and didn't say anything. Dean blinked when he rose to his feet, frowning a little when Castiel's touch withdrew. "Hey." He tried reaching out, but the bars were too close together and he couldn't make a grab for Castiel's coat. Luckily, the medic stopped. "You…" He cleared his throat, swallowing, and looked away. "Will you come visit me? I mean…"

Castiel smiled, and knelt down, pressing a hand against the bars of his cage, and then through to stroke across the back of Dean's hand. "I will always be your top medic when you get injured, and I will watch every fight. And I will visit if Michael allows it. After all, I think you'll need more physical therapy sessions, and follow-up exams…"

He trailed off, smiling, and Dean's eyes brightened up in happiness. "I'd like that."

* * *

><p>Inhibitions? What inhibitions? xD<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Maturity  
><strong>Author:<strong> HigherMagic  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>PairingsCharacters: **Dean/ Castiel  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> None. AU.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> mentions of breeding, self-lubrication, heat!trope, hybrid!Dean  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>~4,000  
><strong>Summary:<strong> She had lunged and he had just…reacted. His vision went kind of funny and all he could think was _not today_. Because…well, that was just it, wasn't it? Survival.  
><strong> Notes:<strong> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Sequel to 'Black Widow' and, while you don't have to, it's recommended that you read that one first.

* * *

><p>The creature he had just fought was Lilith. She had been…beautiful. Deadly, gorgeous, every bit the feral animal she had been created from, with white-glass eyes and sharp talons extending from her fingernails, up her arms, to mirror the scorpion point of her tail as it had arched high above her head. Black Widow had had no idea how to fight a female – he never had. He didn't know how to seduce something that didn't have a cock, didn't want to fuck and breed and use him hard enough that he could use their lust as their downfall.<p>

She had lunged and he had just…reacted. His vision went kind of funny and all he could think was _not today_. Because…well, that was just it, wasn't it? Survival – he'd snapped one of her talons clean off and she's slammed him into the side of the area, laughing, her strange-looking eyes wide and crazed as she jabbed at him with her tail, and he cried out when he pierced his side, straight between his ribs and up into a lung.

"Pretty spider," she cooed, pressing his sweaty hair back from his face as Dean grit his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain, and sharp teeth closed around his throat. The cheers of the crowd were deafening and Dean felt weak. "Pretty, pretty, pretty…"

She cackled, drawing her poisoned barb back and making to strike at him again, but Dean caught her tail, twisting it around and plunging it into her own stomach. Took everything he had but he shoved her off, to the ground, and straddled her with a low snarl. His blood dripped down from his neck and chest, staining her bare body and she was going positively wild under him, snapping and clawing and snarling.

"Pretty spider!" she called, cackling when his hands closed around her throat. "Gonna fuck me, pretty spider? Come on…"

Dean growled again and twisted his hands, snapping her neck with a single stroke, before he stood, spitting on her corpse. Her words didn't register until his handlers came to retrieve him and he collapsed, suddenly aware of her poison seeping through his veins, making him feel weak and like a newborn. He gripped tightly to his handlers' shoulders, gasping hard when the warm touches to his wounds and his head made need unlike something he'd never known shaft through him, curling low in his gut like when he started to produce pheromones to attract his enemies. He realized, as he was walking, that his thin pair of sweat pants were sticking to his thighs, wet with his natural lubricant, and as he walked his erection rubbed uncomfortably against the inside of the sweats.

He frowned, not quite sure what was going on, but then another wave of heat-pain-need hit him and he fell limp in his handlers' arms.

* * *

><p>"His vitals are all over the place." Castiel frowned, setting down Dean's chart as he looked at the hybrid, who was curled up in an enclosure, his arms wrapped tight around his chest where bandages from his wound still were, sweaty and shaking as he tossed and turned, sleeping on the floor. Dean only slept on the floor when he was in a lot of pain. "He has a fever, he's dehydrated despite the IV feed…and you say he just collapsed after the fight?"<p>

Michael grimaced, wringing his hands as he joined Castiel in watching over his favored creation. "That's what Bobby said – just finished the fight, walked away and then collapsed, unconscious. I mean, he's been injured before but Lilith had poison and…"

"The tests have shown no foreign toxins in his blood. Perhaps he just needs to sweat out the fever – it could be an unrelated incident and, given how quickly it acted, I'm inclined to believe in a pre-existing condition that was merely triggered by Lilith's attack. I shall keep him here overnight for observation."

Michael smiled. "Thank you, Castiel, that's great. Dean's a fighter – I'm sure he'll be okay." Despite the worry still shadowing his eyes, Michael forced a smile and shook Castiel's hand before his departure, leaving the medic to sigh and look back towards the hybrid, who was now softly moaning in pain, curled up even tighter in a fetal position on the floor.

"What's the matter?" he whispered, pressing his hand against the bars.

* * *

><p>Dean's eyes snapped open at ten at night, the hybrid slowly uncurling himself from the position he had been sleeping in, despite the protest his sore and tired muscles were making. Everything seemed a little fuzzy around the edges and, frowning, Dean felt at the edges of the bandages around his torso.<p>

The fight. Of course.

A series of clicks fell from his mouth as he pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around. Smelled like a lab, but not his usual place when he had been coming here for his physical therapy. Didn't smell like the Doctor and it was a lot bigger. There was even a freaking tree in the corner, building into the metal, or maybe it had grown itself there. Who knew.

Dean clicked softly again, and perked up at the sound of a crackling intercom being turned on. "Dean? You alright in there?"

Dean's head snapped around, looking up at the megaphone attached to the corner of her enclosure. There was also a camera with a red blinking light and Dean narrowed his eyes at it – the voice was familiar, well-known and Dean smirked up at it, getting to his feet. "Not the usual digs, Doc," he replied, wincing a little when moving meant there was a tug on his bandages, and, looking down at himself, he didn't see anything out of place, but there were weird stickers taped to his chest. He picked at them. Whatever had caused his weird mating reaction had gone away, at least. "Where am I?"

"In the overnight monitoring facility. Please don't pick at the electrodes – I need those to make sure your vitals stay normal."

"There are other ways," Dean replied, smirking up at the camera again. "More _practical _ways." Castiel sighed over the intercom and Dean laughed again, looking around. "I can't see you," he said, frowning.

"I'm not in the room with you, Dean," came Castiel's reply, and Dean sighed, settling down again, laying on his back and staring up at the sky through the webbing of metal that arched over his enclosure. Absently he scratched at his chest, frowning when he felt that weird heat again. He raised his head, looking down at himself, as he felt slickness between his thighs like when he was trying to seduce a fighter long enough to get close. Weird.

He bit his lip, turning over onto his stomach and wincing again when that caused a shaft of pain-heat-need to shoot down his spine, and he shoved a hand into his sweat pants, frowning again at the amount of slickness he was met with. "Cas, I…" He trailed off, freezing when laying on his stomach meant his hardening cock was pressed against the ground. The friction felt…good. Weirdly good. Like a victory after a fight. "I don't…"

"Dean, what's wrong?" Castiel asked, sounding worried.

"I think I…" Dean groaned, hands flying out to fist in the grass he was laying on, pressing his forehead tight to the ground as he rutted forward again, clothed cock pressing against the ground. "_Fuck_, what's going on? Cas?"

"It's alright, Dean, just let me…" Dean grunted softly, pressing his cock harder against the ground even though it hurt, twinged his aching chest and hurt to press something so sensitive against an unyielding surface, but he couldn't think past the driving need in his head, fogging up his brain with…with _lust_. It took a moment for him to realize, but he smelled like his rivals smelled when he was putting out his pheromones, when they wanted to mate.

He smelled like breeding.

"Cas, I think…" Dean shuddered, again, gasping when he stilled, cock twitching and flooding his sweats with damp warmth. Felt really damn good and it made Dean tremble, sweaty and sticky and breathing hard. "Cas?" He called out the medic's name again, but no answer came, and his eyes felt heavy and drooped, and he curled up, asleep, on the floor, after shoving his pants off his hips.

Next time he'd know what it felt like against the cold air. Then maybe skin. Maybe he could convince Castiel to show him what all this mating stuff was really meant to be about.

* * *

><p>Castiel shoved himself back from his chair, staring at the monitors as he watched Dean strip, baring more of his smooth, creamy skin to the camera, before curling in on himself, his glowing green eyes falling closed, his thighs and hips shining dully in the light from his semen and slick. The medic heaved a breath, running a hand through his hair.<p>

"Fuck," he muttered, swallowing harshly, tugging on his hair to try and center himself and distract himself from the hard-on pressing against his slacks. Thank God no one was in the monitoring room with him otherwise that would be so _awkward_. And unexplainable. Who the fuck gets off on watching one of the hybrids discover their mating instincts for the first time?

And with that thought, everything started making a lot more sense. Dean hadn't been of fertile age when he and Castiel had first meant and, now, obviously the mix of DNA and mating instincts was throwing Dean for a biological loop. However one thing was certain – Dean had reached mature and mating age. And he probably knew it, now, too.

Castiel swallowed. Dean had made it no secret that he craved affection and attention from Castiel. Whether that stemmed from some biological urge or from the fact that Castiel had been the only person in the history of forever to give a crap enough about Dean to learn how he communicated, Castiel didn't know. But Dean had called out his name while pleasuring himself and that was something Castiel couldn't ignore no matter how much he wanted to.

And another thing he couldn't ignore was the fact that he wanted Dean back. And that was so screwed up. Dean was young, and innocent, and not even human – couldn't understand anything more than fight and fuck and feed, whatever urge was running through his body at that moment. And if Castiel did have sex with Dean, or try, there was no guarantee that he would make it out the other side.

Not that he would.

Because that would be morally reprehensible.

Didn't stop him wanting it, though.

"God damnit," he muttered, pressing his fist to his mouth as he watched Dean sleep. He closed his eyes. It was wrong. So, so God damn wrong that it made his head spin. If anyone found out, or if Dean got pregnant (if he could) or if he didn't 'get it right' and Dean ended up decapitating him or whatever happened…it was just too wrong. Too many risks.

His eyes flared open again. If he didn't, then Dean would be put into mating trials. Pens, with dominant creatures willing to hold him down and fuck him or sly females willing to seduce and break him. Every single hybrid Dean had fought that could talk had called him 'pretty', and he was – even with his weird hooked fingers, sensitive pads, oddly shaped eyes and pupils and his sharp, backward-facing teeth, Dean was pretty. Beautiful, even, and alluring, and deadly, and…

Castiel stood up, switching off the recording feature of the camera feed. If he was going to do this, whatever happened, he was not going to let it be publicized. His fingers shook as he ran them through his hair again, pressing his lips together and, before he could think about it anymore, he opened the door from the monitoring room and headed towards Dean's pen.

* * *

><p>Dean opened bleary eyes at the sound of something hard scraping across the metal bars of his cage, and he shivered, knowing that sound well. Blinking his eyes open, he rolled over towards the sound, dark green eyes focusing on the figure standing next to the bars and running his pen along them. Bright blue eyes fixed and held Dean's and the hybrid sucked in a breath.<p>

Castiel.

"You came," he whispered, smiling wide despite himself as he got to his feet and ran over to the bars, pressing his face against them and closing his eyes again when he felt Castiel's pen tap against the bars. His hands flattened out across the cage, able to feel the soft vibrations against his palms and fingertips, and he shivered, biting his lower lip softly before looking back at Castiel. "Where were you?"

"Elsewhere," came the medic's reply, his voice soft but tense. "Dean," he said, lightly tracing a finger down the side of Dean's face, eliciting a purr from the hybrid. "You're of age to mate."

Dean hummed, smiling a little, his fingers curling around the fine bars next to Castiel's hand. "Yeah," he whispered, swallowing loudly, looking into the medic's eyes. "That what that is?"

Castiel nodded, pressing his lips together, running the pen back and forth across the bars again, making Dean shudder, and the hybrid suddenly pushed away from the cage bars, a series of agitated-sounding clicks falling from his mouth. "If you're here just to tell me that, stop fucking…" He growled, gesturing at the bars. "Stop that."

"This?" Castiel tapped the bars again, smiling a little when Dean hissed at him, eyes narrowing. "Why? What does it mean when I do this?"

"It…" Dean's shoulders went tense and he growled again, eyes flashing. "I don't fucking know what it means, okay? It's just…I feel like I need to sit down. Lie down. Get on my knees. _Something_. Have…" He paused, turning back around, and pressed himself to the bars again, naked body glowing dully under the lights of the corridor that led to his pen. "Have someone touch me. For real. Not just a pen against the bars."

"You'll kill anyone who tries to mate with you," Castiel said, cocking his head to one side.

He was startled into taking a step back when Dean growled and slammed his palm against the bars hard enough to rattle the cage, baring his curved teeth at the medic. "If you aren't going to fucking help me then get the hell away from me, where I can't smell you," the hybrid snarled. Castiel pressed his lips together, looking Dean up and down – clearly his mating instincts were causing him to become aggressive.

The medic took another step back, pressing his lips together, and sighed. "Dean, I just…I don't know what to do. This isn't something I can solve."

For a long moment, the creature just stared at him, oddly shaped pupils contracting in the comparatively bright light, before Dean licked his lips, curling his fingers in the bars again. That weird heat-need feeling was building up again, he could feel it gathering low in his stomach.

"Cas," he whispered, sounding young when Castiel's eyes flashed to him again. "Please, help me. It…I feel like I'm burning up or something. Like I want…" His fingers flexed and he swallowed. "I promise. I don't wanna hurt you. Don't think I actually could." A smile then, crossed his face – indulgent and affectionate and Castiel blinked over at him, unconvinced.

"Have you ever heard the poem of the spider and the fly?" he asked, taking a step forward anyway and Dean cocked his head to one side, blinking at him.

"No," he whispered.

"It's about this spider," Castiel said, reaching forward just gently and pushing his fingers through the bars, tracing Dean's hairline until the hybrid purred, dipping his head and pushing into Castiel's touch, the medic's fingers against his face, "that tries to seduce the fly. 'Come into my parlor', he would say, over and over, convincing the fly that he meant no harm, that they could dine and be friends together." Dean hummed noncommittally, closing his eyes as Castiel brushed two fingers over the corner of his mouth, down under his jaw. "Then, when the fly was convinced and they went inside, the spider ate her."

Dean's eyes flashed open and he swallowed, looking sincere when he straightened and Castiel realized for the first time that Dean was actually taller than him. "I would never…" Dean's fingers reached forward, stretching through the bars, but Castiel's face was too far away and so he settled for clinging to the medic's coat. He leant forward, pressing his cheek against the cars again, his nose poking through. "I couldn't."

"What makes you so sure? I'm rather fond of living," Castiel said with a slight smile that felt way too forced.

Dean swallowed, looking down. "I think the fact that I let you touch me at all…" Then, he trailed off, tossing his head. "Doesn't matter. I mean, I can deal. I just…" He swallowed again, biting his lip. "I just think, out of anyone in the world, I'd rather be with you. You just…I don't know, man. Just seemed like you kind of get it."

Castiel pressed his lips together, reaching through the bars again, and took Dean's chin in hand. "Dean, look at me," he whispered, and the hybrid obeyed, lips parting as he sucked in a breath, the heat spiking at Castiel's touch, making him flush. "Keep very still," the medic said softly, before he leaned in and pressed their lips together in the space between the bars.

Felt weird, touching Castiel like this, using his mouth for something that wasn't biting or snarling or some other threatening move. But it felt good, too, how soft Castiel's lips were, slightly dry, yielding and Dean rocked forward, pressing as tight to the bars as he could get in search for more, needing in a way he hadn't ever needed before.

With a frustrated sound Dean pulled away, gasping for air, his pupils blown, and he could feel the pheromones leaking out of him, saturating the very air between him and Castiel. The bars were too close together and he couldn't get close enough – needed more. Needed Castiel's hands on him and more of his mouth and more _everything_.

"Please," he whispered, eyes imploring, and with a muffled curse Castiel reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys that he jammed into the lock on Dean's pen door, throwing the door open, then closed behind him, shutting them both inside.

Dean was on him before he could blink, hooked fingers digging tight into Castiel's biceps and pulling him close as the hybrid slanted their mouths together once more. Though Castiel knew Dean's teeth to be sharp, python-like in how they were built, he felt no evidence of that when his tongue slipped inside. There were no sharp edges to Dean's mouth, nothing hostile or vicious inside of him and Castiel had just enough time to think that that was damn poetic before Dean's pheromones were fogging up his head, making it difficult to think, and Castiel moaned when Dean slammed him back against the cage wall, making the bars vibrate. Castiel shivered and Dean moaned even louder than he did when the hybrid's hand found his cock between his legs, pressing in hard enough to feel fucking amazing, Dean burning hot and so close.

The hybrid pulled away, panting hard, a low growl rumbling from him. "Your body feels like a web," he whispered, eyes wide and wondering even as they clouded over with lust and need. "So fine, so strong…shivering with pleasure. _My _pleasure…" And then they were kissing again, Dean's fingers pulling at his clothes frantically until Castiel was pretty much as naked as Dean was, kicking off his shoes so he could step out of his pants and slacks.

"Dean," he growled when the hybrid pressed flush against him, and Castiel was able to feel their erections slide together and, when he reached down, Dean's slick coated his fingers and he gasped, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Dean's neck.

"Cas, I -." Dean choked, mewling softly in his throat when Castiel slid two fingers inside of him, the hybrid sucking in a breath and going practically limp in Castiel's arms. "What do I…? How does it…?"

"Go with your instincts, Dean, I'm right here with you," Castiel replied softly, and Dean shivered, closing his eyes, before he stepped away from Castiel and, slowly, sank to his knees in front of the man. He reached out, staring at Castiel with a small smile, and placed the man's hand on his neck, pulling Castiel down so they were both kneeling in the grass, and nuzzled close to him, forehead pressed against Castiel's throat, one hand splaying out over the man's racing heart.

"I want to be on my knees," Dean whispered, licking out along Castiel's collarbone, earning a small shiver from the man. "But I still want to see you. To feel you, and hear you and…Just…keep…" He sucked in a breath, nosing at Castiel's throbbing pulse, sucking in a deep breath. "Keep shivering. Feels like you're talking to me."

"Okay," Castiel replied, leaning down and pressing a small kiss to Dean's forehead, brushing a thumb over the creature's hairline. "Whatever you want, Dean."

The creature mewled, eyes closing when another hot spike of lust hit him. "Need it now, Cas," he whispered, withdrawing from the man just enough that he was able to roll over and get to his hands and knees, pressing back against Castiel as the man settled his hands on the small of Dean's back, rubbing just under the creature's sore flanks.

"Alright, Dean, just let me…" Castiel bit his lip, his eyes taking in Dean's form for a moment, now that he could. The hybrid really was a thing of beauty, even broken up by the bandages around his torso from Lilith's spike. He dragged a hand gently down Dean's spine, fingers brushing over the creature's leaking hole when he reached it, slipping two fingers inside. Dean shivered and Castiel moaned softly, finding Dean open and ready and wet for him, and without a thought he pulled his fingers out and shifted position, putting his knees inside of Dean's, forcing them to spread, and pushed inside of the hybrid.

He hadn't expected Dean to be so…_hot_. And _tight_. It struck him for real that Dean was an honest-to-God virgin, barely legal by human laws or any other laws for that matter. He had never actually been fucked by anyone – killed them before they could try – and Castiel growled low at the thought, uncharacteristic possessiveness running through him, as he tightened his grip on Dean's hips and bottomed out in one thrust.

The hybrid _screamed_ at that, back arching, his entire body going tense and boneless at the same time, as he locked up tight around Castiel's cock, shuddering violently at he came. Without being touched. Without Castiel doing anything, practically. The thought made the man moan, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Dean's shoulder as he rolled his hips back and fucked back inside, itching to be buried as deeply inside of Dean as he could get, for as long as he could.

It had been a long time for him, but he managed to fuck Dean through another orgasm, wringing the creature dry with his cock. Dean shuddered underneath him, mewling low and pained-sounding, and one hand reached back, fisting tightly in Castiel's hair and pulling.

The medic froze. Images of Hell Hound and Chief flashed in his head, of Dean letting them mount him, then driving blades through their necks or snapping their spines with his grip as they tried to fuck him, and terror gripped him tight, certain that that was what Dean intended to do now – use him for his own pleasure and then kill him, destroy his body. No one would ever know.

But that thought disappeared when Dean's grip softened in his hair, and the hybrid turned to look at him through glassy eyes, glazed over in pleasure, his lips parted and reddened from their kiss. "Please, Cas," Dean whispered, begged without any volume because it felt like he couldn't breathe. "Fuck, God, fill me up. Mate with me."

Castiel shuddered, the words affecting him in a way that he knew they shouldn't affect another human being, and he pressed tight to Dean's ass, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, as he emptied himself inside of the creature, buried as deep as he could get. Dean shuddered one last time, nothing leaving him now – he had nothing left to give – before they both slumped to the ground and Castiel wrapped his arms tight around Dean, pulling him close.

When Castiel softened and pulled out, Dean rolled over and pressed tight to his body, purring, tucking his head underneath Castiel's chin. "That was fucking amazing," Dean murmured, closing his eyes. "Does it always feel like that?"

"Not always," Castiel replied honestly, petting a hand through Dean's hair. "Only when they know how to get it right."

Dean laughed, the memory of when he had said those very words to Castiel sparking in his head, and he looked at the man with eyes glowing with happiness and contentment, before he leaned down and closed his eyes, pressing close to the medic yet again. "What happens now?" he asked, sighing heavily, curling a leg around one of Castiel's and tangling them together as the medic stroked a hand up and down his back.

"I don't know," Castiel replied, deciding to stick with the honest streak. "I suppose it depends on how I diagnose you in the morning." Dean went tense at his side and Castiel chuckled. "I mean, for all Michael knows, you could have a serious virus that, while curable, will mean you need close observation and since I might be infected myself, being your primary medic, I may as well stay in the private enclosures to go all the monitoring for you…"

Dean let out a happy sound – sort of a combination of excited clicks and a soft whine, and leaned up to press his mouth to Castiel's again, laying his body over the man's as they kissed. He was smiling brightly, hooked and sticky fingers clinging tight, slick and semen leaking out of him, old mess crusting around his stomach and sweat dampening his hair, but he was gorgeous. He was perfect.

"I'd like that," Dean whispered, resting their forehead together, his lips curved in a conspiratorial smirk. "I'd like that a lot."

"As long as I get to keep my head," Castiel replied with a small laugh.

Dean chuckled. "As long as you keep gettin' it right, you don't have to worry."

* * *

><p>It was another week and a half before Dean was in any condition to go back in the Ring. Only, this time, he didn't find that he minded it so much. The idea of time off didn't bother him, as long as he had his mate and medic to congratulate him on another battle won, to stay by his side every day. Didn't even bother him as much as he thought it would when Michael insisted he get an extra-long vacation after defeating Leviathan, the most powerful and fiercest mofo that some crazy scientist had ever created. With medical supervision, of course.<p>

Nope, he didn't mind that one bit.


End file.
